


Dying Embers

by Pandora151



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Character Death, Gen, Illnesses, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 04:53:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17543024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandora151/pseuds/Pandora151
Summary: Anakin fell sick three weeks after Qui-Gon died.Obi-Wan, still struggling with pain and grief, watched Anakin succumb to illness.





	Dying Embers

**Author's Note:**

> This is another fic I wrote in October 2018 for Whumptober! 
> 
> This is for Whumptober Day 30 Prompt: Caregiver. Enjoy!

Anakin fell sick three weeks after Qui-Gon died.

Obi-Wan, still struggling with pain and grief, watched Anakin succumb to illness.

Vokara told him that Anakin was born with a heart defect that went untreated for too long.  Most heart defects were discovered shortly after birth and were treated right away.  If untreated, children with heart defects would not live long past their first year.

Somehow, Anakin managed to survive well past that first year with a heart defect.  Perhaps it was his strength in the Force that allowed him to survive this long, but Vokara wasn’t sure.

Obi-Wan argued that it wasn’t Anakin’s fault that it wasn’t treated.  He probably never even noticed the defect until now.  Vokara stared at him for a long moment before saying that there were not many options.

“What are the options?” Obi-Wan asked, almost desperately.

Vokara sighed.  “Obi-Wan…” she said, voice low.

Obi-Wan shook his head.  “Master Che, what are the options?” he repeated.  “There must be something I can do.”

Vokara deflated.  “The only thing you can do is take care of him.  Make sure he is happy and comfortable,” she replied.

Obi-Wan stared.  “No, please,” he begged.  “What about a heart transplant?  Or even a cloned heart?  You can’t fix the defect, Master?”

The healer realized just how  _young_ and desperate Obi-Wan sounded.  He was still reeling from Qui-Gon’s death, to lose Anakin so soon afterwards would be…

Well, she didn’t know what would happen to him.

“I am searching for a transplant, but it’s unlikely we’ll find a match, Obi-Wan,” she replied.  “Cloning or prosthetics are not options–he’s simply too young, and the risk is too great.  And no, I cannot fix it.  The damage is too great.”

Obi-Wan exhaled.  “We’ll wait for the transplant, then,” he said.  “We can wait.”

Vokara bit the inside of her lip.  Eventually, she would have to tell him exactly how unlikely his padawan was to survive, but for now, Obi-Wan needed this.

“If you want, you can take care of him at home.  I will contact you if I hear anything.  I cannot do anything right now, Kenobi,” she said finally.

Obi-Wan nodded.  “Please keep me posted.   _Please_ ,” he replied, voice colored with desperation.

Vokara softened and nodded.  Skywalker’s chances were slim, but for Obi-Wan’s sake, she would do everything she could to save him.

* * *

“Master?”

Anakin’s voice was smaller than Obi-Wan has ever heard it.  He turned around to face Anakin, who was sitting comfortably in his bed.

“Is it alright if I…” Anakin trailed off.  “I want my mom, Obi-Wan.  Please?”

Obi-Wan swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.  “I’ll speak to the Council,” he replied, voice dry.  “In the meantime, do you want some food?”

Anakin shook his head.  “The medicine makes me nauseous, Master.  I don’t want to eat right now,” he said.  “Can I just sleep?”

Obi-Wan nodded, and carefully moved his padawan so that he was lying down.  Anakin fell asleep easily, exhausted.

Obi-Wan watched him sleep the whole time, covering him with extra blankets when he began to shiver.

* * *

The next day, Obi-Wan made a large pot of the soup Qui-Gon used to make him whenever he was sick.  He couldn’t exactly remember all the ingredients that Qui-Gon used, especially since the man refused to tell Obi-Wan how to make the soup.

Despite that, Obi-Wan’s attempt ended up pretty close to what he remembered.  He poured out a small bowl for Anakin, knowing that his padawan had very little appetite for food in general.

As he finished pouring the soup into the bowl, the Force let out a pained cry.  He felt pain and panic thrumming along his bond with Anakin.  He instantly put the bowl and ladle down on the counter and stumbled over to Anakin’s room.

Anakin was flat on his back, both hands pressing down on his chest, body shaking.  His eyes were squeezed shut, tears leaking out of its corners.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan shouted, racing to his bedside.  “What is it?”

“H–hurts,” Anakin gasped.  His hands tightened their grip on the cloth covering his chest.  “Hurts,” he said again, almost crying.

Obi-Wan immediately reached over to the medications that the healers gave to help Anakin and picked up the pain relief.  Obi-Wan easily injected the hypospray into Anakin’s wrist, watching as the tension slowly left Anakin’s body.

“Better?” Obi-Wan asked quietly.  Anakin nodded, though his lips were tightly pressed together.

“I need my mom, Master,” Anakin said after a few moments.  “ _Please_.”

* * *

Shmi Skywalker arrived to the Jedi Temple one week later, having been freed from slavery by Quinlan Vos.  There was an air of urgency about her presence.  After speaking briefly with the Council, Obi-Wan came to escort her to his and Anakin’s apartment.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Obi-Wan said as they rushed to the elevator.

“Why?” Shmi asked, raising an eyebrow.  “It is not your fault, Master Jedi.”

_But it is_ , Obi-Wan wanted to argue.

They arrived at the apartment, and Obi-Wan stayed in the common room while mother and son reunited.  For the first time in almost two weeks, Anakin was  _happy_.

He didn’t want to take that away from him.

* * *

Despite the fact that Anakin’s mother stayed at the Temple with Anakin and Obi-Wan, Anakin wasn’t getting better.  A small, childish part of Obi-Wan thought that Shmi’s presence would be enough to cure Anakin.

It wasn’t, though it did make Anakin happier.

Anakin spent more time in the Healer’s Ward than in the apartment, so Master Che took Obi-Wan aside and told him to have Anakin permanently transferred to the Ward.

It didn’t make sense.  Obi-Wan was taking care of Anakin; he was helping him with his illness, feeding him, keeping him happy, but…it wasn’t enough.

Just like with Qui-Gon, it wasn’t enough.

Regardless, Obi-Wan had no choice but to agree after he walked in to Anakin’s room to find his padawan completely still, not breathing.

It took the combined efforts of Obi-Wan, Shmi, and Master Che to revive Anakin.

After Anakin was settled in the ICU of the Ward, Obi-Wan asked Master Che about the heart transplant.

The Master Healer stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head slowly.

“The only thing I can do for him is make him comfortable,” she said softly.  “I’m so sorry, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, feeling a fresh wave of anguish press into him.  He pushed it down and away.

“How long does he have?” Obi-Wan asked softly.

Master Che placed a hand on his shoulder.  “A week at best,” she murmured.  “I’m sorry.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, shrugged her hand off his shoulder, and walked back towards Anakin and Shmi.

* * *

Anakin barely lasted two more days.

He was hooked up to a respirator to help him breathe, but he still struggled for each breath.  Shmi sat by his bedside, tightly gripping his hand.  Obi-Wan sat on the other side, watching with wide eyes.

Anakin’s eyes moved to meet Obi-Wan’s.

“Obi…” he mumbled.

Obi-Wan stood and moved closer to Anakin, placing a gentle hand on his padawan’s shoulder.  “I’m here, Anakin,” he replied softly.

“Don’t be…sad,” Anakin breathed.  He opened his eyes.  “I’ll be…with Master Qui-Gon.”

Obi-Wan nodded, though he couldn’t help the tears that fell from his eyes.

Anakin’s eyes shifted his mother.

“Love…you, Mom…” he managed.

“I love you, my son,” Shmi replied.  She stood and held on to Anakin’s other hand.

Anakin’s eyes fell shut.

A few minutes later, Obi-Wan felt his Force bond with Anakin shatter, and the pain caused him to fall to his knees, pressing his head against the mattress of the bed.

Tears spilled from his eyes, and he shook violently.  He felt Shmi wrapping her arms around him, heard her crying, too, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself together enough to reassure her.

Anakin was dead.

He  _failed._

He failed Qui-gon, he failed Anakin.  He failed the Jedi.

Eventually, the tears stopped, but the pain didn’t.  Obi-Wan looked up at Anakin’s body.  He looked so peaceful.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, bowing his head.

He stayed on his knees as the Healers came to take Anakin’s body away.  Shmi followed them out, leaving Obi-Wan alone.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated.  Tears spilled from his eyes once again, but this time he made no move to wipe them.

Obi-Wan failed, and that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry.


End file.
